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5/7/2015 10:12:43 PM

Bob Atkinson
Posts: 294

p { margin-bottom: 0.1in; line-height: 120%; } "Jack's Sweater Shower of Munich"

- by Bob Atkinson

Park out in the boonies
away from everything
nothing here of interest
except the robins singing

through the entrance to the grotto
where strange machines glide
fast into the tunnels bored through earth
toward the town of long ago man

grab a quick bite to eat
at the yellow arches store
sitting on hard benches
unknown what this place holds

enter into the darkness
oh, there's plenty of light
but what to expect of this
I don't know
but some others might

come up the steps to a scene
of craftsmanship and might
stone buildings ornately made
not an automobile in sight

cobblestones upon the street
a people walking zone
where you can cross the street in awe
without trucks and taxis
trampling your toes

oh, the builders of this town
and those who take care of it
have in my heart the due respect
of one who couldn't do this

there's care of many eons
it didn't happen at one time
the shape of everything we saw
kept these tourists' eyes wide

there was the clock
it would chime
we weren't looking for it
but we found it there
at the top of steps
we all knew of it

backwards, walking across the street
I now fully understood
how the city left you in a trance
and of your adventure glad

if car's were here allowed
you'd be on their hoods
viewing sky with anguished pain
giving wonder and amazement
to your end of days

a department store
in front of us
a sale of some expanse
sweaters neatly on a table
a woman folded the last

yes, to my awe,
to my complete surprise
my adventure was taking a turn
in front of my wide eyes

now you must remember
from Paris we did come
we weren't fresh or rich of taste
when to this table we stood

Jack had been thrown into the pokey
in Saint Gallen, Switzerland
for smashing his car
into a woman's trunk
while fighting a bus for land

it was raining, this is true
but give me here a break
who cares if you are in the front
or behind this monster box
when push comes to shove
the larger mass prevails
for it I always wait

here I have digressed
I've made you wait again
for the story of the table
and how foolish one can seem

sometimes we are
confronted plainly
by those who upon us wait
with disgust or disdain...
as they make their funny faces
or remarks sour of grace

behind our backs is worse
than honestly in front
they know not from where we came
or who we think we are

stabbing us in the heart
the digs of strangers can
tear our egos apart
and spoil our mind's plan

especially if it is in a language
they think we don't understand
or about the height or weight of one
who thinks he is a man

when Jack heard these remarks
about his unfolding clothes
placed neatly on the table
from the store to be sold

he didn't take it lightly
it did not smooth his soul
the anger of being insulted
rose to his head from his toes

stupid American, huh?
crazy ape?
short of stature?
from a poor place came?

well, this made him very, very mad
he rose up in wild disgust
at the woman throwing insults
under her breath behind his back

she had, it must be understood
worked very, very hard
at folding sweaters on the table
that Jack would open then discard

his tirade lasted moments
I stood there mouth open wide
and watched this wildness of mind
in a place of older times

he told her in her native tongue
how she was an old and ugly Mom
and promised her he would take
from her table all those garments

this he did, with one swift grab
gathering them all, even the last
into a ball between his arms
and threw them high
into the sky, my oh my

"Jack's Sweater Shower of Munich"
now it's called
decorated a street of much fine places
and left astonished many faces

and I think a bit disgraced us

this true story, now related
for those yet to travel abroad
tells one tale of action
of one raw dog

there are two lessons to be learned
here in this tale of woe
first for tourists a trip to make
to soothe away their souls
to see for themselves the place
on that old and wonderful street
where Jack and the clerk woman
bantered fiercely
while I stared nervously at my feet

you can find it if you look hard
and see the clock upon the tower
look to the store that is across the street
see if tables are still complete
with refolded sweaters, all very neat

then there is the subtle side
of how others see our inner pride
they see it not, they are content
within their souls, their time to spend
caring only about themselves
letting others fold things on their tables
while remembering this old fable

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